Tree in the Forest
by Storm the Trenches
Summary: Ivo Wright must survive the 16th Hunger Games while avoiding the Career Pack and faulty alliances with other tributes. How can a 12 year old become victor when against all odds? Well his escort to the Capitol did say "May the odds be ever in your favor".
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first fanfic, so no being jerks. If the name Ivo Wright is familiar to you, then you are right. I actually submitted him as a mentor for another story but then I really wanted to write his Games myself. In the story I submitted him as a mentor, he is the mentor of District 1 and uses swords instead of axes but I originally submitted as the mentor for District 7.**

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_I remember in extreme detail the Games I was force to play. Along with 23 other children, I was forced to participate in a cruel mockery of punishment that our beloved Capitol invented. I was only twelve years old and I was turned to a mere child, to a murderer. _

_I kid you not, I remember all the tributes that lost their lives at my hands, I remember their names, their faces, and during my Victor Tour, the faces of their families. _

_I am Ivo Wright of District 7 and I was the Victor of the 16__th__ Hunger Games, and this is my story. _

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As the night quickly fades as the morning comes forth, I turn over to avoid the light as it comes crashing into my darkened room. As if fated, my battle with the morning is lost and I force myself up straight. My face falls as I look at the empty room before me and remember how alive it once was.

I was not always an only child, the status fell upon me as I watched my brother, Kylemore, die a horrible death at only 15. I was only ten then, I didn't understand why my brother had to die so early, he was only in the strange aquatic arena for only a few short minutes. He was fighting with another kid, one much older than him, for a sharp looking object and then the same object that they were fighting over killed him. It wasn't until a month later that I found out he was a victim of the Hunger Games, another dead tribute of the 14th Hunger Games.

We used to be close, my brother and I, we would climb the trees of our District and, no matter what, and he was always 'cool enough' to play with his little brother. And despite his shortened life, I never regretted a moment with him.

I stretched as I got off my old mattress, and drowsily made my way to my father's room. I stood in front of his door and knocked to see if he was awake yet, and to my surprise he came out of his room with a small smile on his weathered face. He looked at me and said in a cheerful, deep voice, "Good morning, son, isn't the weather promising a good day?"

I didn't answer him but instead I just looked at him with a dumbfounded expression on my face. He noticed my expression and then laughed good naturedly, "I'm sorry, Ivo, I sometimes forget that you cannot answer me."

He was right, I couldn't answer him. It was a lumbering accident that took away my ability to speak, a misunderstanding that led to an axe in the throat. I was told constantly that I was lucky to be alive, and then again, I am truly fortunate that that axe didn't go through my neck. If I died then, then I would have never of met Mahogany.

Mahogany Lavonn, my girlfriend, and I are both twelve and we are in love, and I don't care about what everyone says. After my accident, I thought that no girl in my District would ever want to marry a boy that couldn't talk. From what I gathered, girls loved it when they were told that they look nice and they loved to be complimented. Unlike the other girls in District Seven, Mahogany is nice and she always seems to know exactly what I wish I could say.

"Don't be falling asleep on my now, son," my father's voice cut into my train of thought. "We have to be alert when at work, don't want to loose any fingers, now do we?"

I smiled at my dad's strange joke, he was referring to himself and how he only has three fingers on one hand. He told me that it was because I got distracted by a pretty woman walking near the timber yard.

I walked with my father to eat a quick breakfast and to pack our lunches; it was nothing major, just a simple dish that Mahogany and her mother made for us, rice with a strange yet delicious topping and some bread that Mahogany made herself. And the bread was the best I have ever eaten in my life.

"Get ready for work today, Ivo, and don't take too long. If we finish our quota for the day early, we might swing by your girl's place and thank them for the food." My father told me as we walked back to our rooms. It wasn't everyday that my dad gave me an excuse to see Mahogany.

As I came out of my room in my worn-out work clothes, my father was already waiting by the door with our axes. We headed out the door onto the Timber Yard to start cutting the trees.

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I came home in a better mood than when I left. When me and my father went to Mahogany's home, we went off to the forest that outlined her home, hand-in-hand, while our parents were talking to each other. There I stole a kiss from her, and just thinking about it warmed my inner core. The best part was that she smiled her oh-so beautiful smile at me when I pulled away from her. Life was good.

I went straight to my room, I couldn't try to eat in fear of the butterflies in my stomach would make the food that me and my father work hard to get come up again.

That night I fell asleep and all I could see was the dazzling smile of my Mahogany.

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**What do you think? Good or bad? No matter what you think, your opinion actually matters a lot. **


	2. The Reaping

**AN: Where have I been? Well...I was a freshman in high school, I got overwhelmed by everything. I had projects (and still have projects-summer assigments-to do) and homework. My English teacher was crazy, but a good teacher none-the-less, and she was Russian. Ironic? Aside from that, I am a serious procrastinator...I think it should be a disease or something. Anyhow, now it is summer and I can now call myself a tenth grader-just with a higher reading level. How many people are seriously reading this? If you are, I will tell next chapter about this crazy thing I did so far. **

**Hints: Applebees, bar, friends**

**And, no, not underage drinking. It's not that fun, trust me. It was at a bar in Applebees with my friends and that is all I'm going to say.**

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_Mountains loomed before us, casting great shadows shaped like the beasts they were. The trees that stretched before them were unlike the ones that shaded District Seven. These were sickly, though the thought that the other tributes knew of this was doubtful, they climbed over each other in greed of sunlight and essentials. At the base of the mountains was a mist, covering the ground and hanging of the limbs of trees as if a vicious waiting and ready to strike at any moment._

_I knew at that moment I wanted to escape. I wanted to return home to my father, to Mahogany, to Forrest, to anyone that could make me forget of what was in front of me. I knew I couldn't—I was a tribute for District Seven, the proud and strong District Seven and we didn't quiver in fear or run away because we were frightened. No one from my home was a coward. I stood my ground, rooted in place, because nothing was going to move me, I had a family to see and a girl to make smile._

"_Let the Hunger Games begin!"_

_With that, we were off. The Bloodbath has begun._

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"Ivo"—something shook me—"Son, wake up, you have to wake up early, my boy." I turned away from my father, there was no work today. Odd…there was always work, there was only one time every year that we didn't have to work. _It was today._

I shot forward, dreams of Mahogany and her smile forgotten as I quickly rose from my beaten, old mattress. Today couldn't be the Reaping, it just _couldn't_, and I thought there was more time! I was twelve now, as was Mahogany, eligible for the Hunger Games, deemed old enough for death and murder. My best friend was fourteen and he was never called as of yet, so on some slight chance…was there hope?

"Ivo," my head snapped over to my dad, his face was so weary and the Games were to blame. Losing your eldest son and possibly your youngest? These things take a toll on people's hearts. My dad began to speak again, "Ivo, it is best if you get dressed now, I already brought out your finest." With that he left.

I looked at the foot of my best and saw my brother's clothes, he was fifteen when he last wore these and I, his kid brother by five years, fit into them at only twelve. If the occasion was not so dreaded and depressed, it might have been funny. I slipped from my garments and into my brother's clothes—carefully though, I buttoned the shirt slowly, preserving it in a way, and slid into his bottoms with ease. I didn't feel right in this, this was my _brother's_ and I was going to wear it to what was his undoing and possibly my own or any number of my friends. I forcibly pushed my thoughts away and made my way out of my room, grabbing my well-wore boots while I was at it.

My dad stood beside the door and started to leave when he saw me. I didn't blame him for leaving so abruptly, I wanted to get this over with as well, perhaps even more than he did. I lagged behind him for some time, stopping ever so often to fix my boots as my laces conspired to trip me. My dad would glance back at me once in a while as if to make sure I was still behind him, still in good ole District Seven.

I listened to the District as everyone prepared for the Reaping, I heard a mother reassuring her younger children that their siblings would be fine, promising them a dinner that to me even sounded delicious. Someone was running, their boots smacking against the dirt and tree-dust that seemed to coat everything in this District which gave off a strange muffled sound. The crashing footsteps were getting louder and louder, suddenly I saw the ground getting closer and closer until I was face first in the ground, the weight of someone sitting on top of me keeping me to the ground.

"Hey-ho, Ivo!"

I knew that voice anywhere. I twisted under my best friend until I finally managed to push him off of me and next to me on the ground. Green eyes shone with mischief while my brown glared with annoyance. He just smiled and laughed and hauled both of us up with a single heft from the ground.

"Forrest, I told you to find to find Ivo, not to tackle him into the dirt!" Mahogany cried as she ran over to us. Forrest had the decency to shrug and smile sheepishly at her.

"At least he didn't get hurt, _Hog_," he said, stressing Mahogany's hated nickname. That earned him a hit to the stomach a quick _'I told you never to call me that'_.

"Ivo," she hugged me around the waist, as far as she could reach. I must admit that I am too tall for twelve—one of the tallest in the District, I do show with pride. "You look so handsome! Too bad it only takes something as drastic as this to make you dress fancy."

I rolled my eyes; of course she would have to mention that. If anything I was underdressed compared to these two. Forrest was wearing his father's clothes, poor man died before I was even born and his mother found another man to love, a nice man too. Mahogany was wore a dress I've only seen once before, and on an occasion such as this, the day when her father passed away, her dress was clean and a kind of green that brought out her soft facial features; a button nose and round cheeks, curly hair that fell in layers past her shoulders and framed her face and gave it an almost glowing appearance. An angel if I'd ever seen one.

"As much as I hate to say this," Forrest said, walking in between Mahogany and I, "we are going to be late. Hurry up and fly off now, you lovebirds!" He was going before I could pull him back. Mahogany also made her way over to the assembled tributes-could-bes and turned to be with the other twelve year old girls and I slipped in with the other twelve boys, towering over them with my impressive height.

Before the crowd was a stage, on it was our Capitol escort, Pericles Delphis, two glass balls with the names of multiple boys and girls, the mayor Keran Whitcomb, and our victors Rohan and Hollis; the only victors District Seven has since the start of the games. I remember Hollis's Hunger Games—the Eleventh—barely, she had allied herself someone from District Nine or Ten and the two of them managed to rid a majority of the Careers until her ally was killed by the remaining Career whose death was marked with vengeance. Then a victor was crowned, the Capitol having a new face to fawn over. Victors in our District are considered lucky; our alcohol is only strong enough to leave a bad taste in your mouth, not enough to leave a person forgetting and numbed, and we had no fancy drugs to get addicted to, only fresh air and a lot of trees. Is that why our victors seem to be the only sane ones?

A sharp cough brought me out of my thoughts, my attention turned back to the stage where the mayor stood with Pericles, in his strange Capitol fashion, it looked like "strange put on a person" or at least that is what Forrest says. Mayor Whitcomb took to the podium and recited the same speech he gave at the last Hunger Games and other before; the history of Panem, how from much disaster it came forth with a glorious Capitol and thirteen districts. He then continued onto the Dark Days, where out of the thirteen districts, one—District Thirteen—was destroyed, then the Treaty of Treason which created the Hunger Games, an over glorified death sentence for innocent children. Mayor Whitcomb also mentions Rohan and Hollis, the victors of District Seven, but we paid very little attention.

Pericles has finally taken over for the mayor, standing before us at his podium and forces a smile, undoubtedly for the cameras marking this day. "Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be _ever _in your favor!" Through the forced cheer I could tell of his utter disgust being here, in a lowly district instead of the luxurious Capitol, but at least he was here in Seven then say Twelve. He makes his way over to the large ball containing the girls' names, containing Mahogany's name. He placed his hand inside and my stomach knotted in fear and anticipation. "Bel Keelty!" He called loudly. My heart skidded in relief. Mahogany was safe, at least until next year.

Out of the area marked off for sixteen year-olds came Bel Keelty, I never knew her but I have seen her before, normally when I when to see Mahogany. She was a Town girl, with straight blonde hair and small green eyes and her mouth was forcing back a smug look. Did she _want_ to be called for her unmaking? Still, she made her way past the other girls and to her place on the stage, for all of District Seven and Panem to see.

Pericles called for any volunteers, but no one would come, none ever did. Pericles walked across the stage to the opposite side, stopping in front of the one thing that was a risk to both me and Forrest. As he reached in questions racked my mind, can a past tribute's sibling also be another tribute? What if he called my name, what would happen to my dad? Losing one son to this mockery was horrible, but to see your last blood relative leave for almost certain death? It was heartbreaking to just think of my father's pain. What about Forrest, is he was called? What would I do without him? He is my best friend and understands me more than Mahogany can, what would I do?

My thoughts stilled as Pericles's hand withdrew with a slip inside its grip. Time moved slower and slower as he opened the paper, my stomach twisting and knotting in ultimate discomfort. Pericles read the paper for all of Panem to hear.

"Ivo Wright."

My heart stopped.

In the little seconds that felt like countless years to me, I stood amongst the crowd. I was a single tree amongst the forest of nonmoving people. Dutifully, my feet began to walk while my mind stayed numb. Once on stage I looked at the assembled mass of District Seven and wished that I hadn't.

I saw my dad, his head bowed at the sight of his last son mirroring the place of his brother, of Kylemore. Mahogany was pale, eyes clenched shut, and her cheeks stained red, a friend of hers attempted to comfort her with a hand on the shoulder but it failed to be noticed. Pericles asked once again for any fool to volunteer to go in my place, but there was movement this time.

Further in the crowd was Forrest struggling against the hold of stronger boys. He was trying to volunteer for me. This didn't go unnoticed by Pericles but I could see that he chose to ignore it, but the cameras did not. My eyes narrowed and I glared at Forrest and for a split second our eyes met. He wanted to waste his life for mine and all I could do was shake my head, hoping—_begging_—that he saw it. Forrest suddenly stopped fighting against the others and stared at me in defeat.

And all of Panem saw.

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**AN: This was, like, nearly five pages long. I was in the zone, I had renewed vigor to complete this. I had inspiration though! Go to districttribute(dot)com and listen. This dude made their own music for the Hunger Games and it was AMAZING! That and Winnie-the-Pooh. That's right. I, a 15 year old, saw that movie with my best friend. And someone dropped their baby...**


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